Month: July 2015

Petite mort part two

Just words

Petite mort

She was a portrait of beauty.
Her love was locked away, waiting for the perfect man and the gentle embrace.

She asked me. Was any kindness or good left in me? I told her. Some men need to swim in shit and sin. Can’t feel alive unless buried in warm and new flesh. Being drunk and yearning for new highway and place. Some men do want love, a large house and a woman waiting. I have been in shit so long. I don’t know if I know any kind of peace or salvation? You are too pretty and kind. Men like me, want the Long Island ice tea, whiskey kisses and the slow dance. Just the petite mortal. Just release of the little want and need that is left. She smiled and laughed. She told me…

You know I’m all up for a little kink, who isn’t? It’s hip, trendy and says, well really I don’t know what it says…the least it says, is the hottie you hooked up with pirated a copy of the latest erotica movie and now thinks he’s an expert. I like the tease, the anticipation and coming, hard orgasms that blow my mind. The problem? No one has blown my mind, since I lost my friend with benefits.
Let’s take last month’s hookup. We’ll call him Bob. Brutish Bob. Of course he looks good, six foot, 175, killer blue eyes, blonde hair, though he misses leg day often, cause his upper body is almost out of proportion with the lower. But the package looked nice enough, so why the hell not.
I was up for some fun. Hot make out session on the sofa, clothes littering the hallway way, this was looking promising. When he asked if he could cuff me to the bed, my wet sex clenched with excitement and I thought ‘fuck yeah’.
So the neanderthal, tosses me on the bed, pulls out a pair of heavy duty law enforcement Smith and Wesson cuffs, then puts his whole 175 across my body to snag me to the wrought iron head board. I swear to GOD, every bit of air went out of my body! Then he used his elbow to lift himself up, ON MY BOOB! You know that muscle on the back of your calf, the big one. I don’t know what the fuck it’s called but I do know if you are going to adjust a woman’s body, do not grab it with your ham hock hand and pull. And that was it. I was done. He never knew what hit him when I said to uncuff me and let me go. A girl can only take so much agony in the name of sex. I still have a fucking bruise on my tit.
Men, please get it together.
If you’re heavier than a partner don’t squish them under you when hooking the cuffs to the bed, walk your ass around. Learn the landscape! And Smith and Wesson is great for jail cell, not the bedroom. I swear that international bestselling erotica author is going to kill me before I find the diamond in the coal mines of England.
And a note for Brutish Bob, you are so lucky I didn’t use real name in this blog post. Don’t forget leg day.
Signing out for now,
Gallivanting Gena

“Are you even going to tell me one thing about you?”
“I’m not a natural blonde.”
“Ahh,” my hand traveled up her thigh to cup her mound. “This I already know.”
“There’s nothing interesting about me.”
“Not true, I find you very interesting,” and I slipped a finger into her layered lips searching for the prize hidden within as she gave a soft sigh.
“You just want to get laid again,” she whispered moving her legs apart to give me more access.
“True. But I do want to know more about you. You’re more than an easy lay. Tell me something I don’t know,” and I pinned her against me, pressed my fingers to her core and she gasped at the sudden invasion.
“There’s nothing,” her breath rushed out of her on a moan as I quickly slid my fingers from her and back in to her core again with her answer receiving the same throaty sound completely turning me on.
I kissed her roughly and whispered in her ear. “That’s a lie, Celeste and liars get punished,” and I roughed her lips with mine and plunged her core again, “Tell me one true thing or admit you’re a liar.”
A decadent devil in me rose up, the idea of her round bare ass over my lap made me instantly hard. I rolled her over, trapped her legs between mine and bent her over my thigh. “One true thing or confess you’re a liar.” I demanded as I yanked her robe off and stifled a groan at her round ass perched in the air as I held her hands captive with one of mine, then lightly smacked her ass sliding my fingers to her core. She was drenched, soaking wet. Her breathing changed as she tried to move into my touch. I wondered if she would hold out on the one thing, just long enough so I could spank her ass, or if she truly was a liar.

No lie, it’s not that I don’t love writing. I do. Blogging escapes me. Really, do you want to read every thought out of my head? No, you don’t trust me. It’s scary in there, dark…full of people ranting and raving waiting for their story to be told.

However I will try on occasion to titillate you with something fancy in the glorious vein of authorness-authorites-divadom.

I can’t promise this blog will be fabulous, even though I am Ab-Fab. But I will post snippets of stories for you preview, hot sexy men and women and try to get over the fact I completely suck at anything technical concerning webpages, blogs and design. There’s people for that. I pay them. (Buy my books so I can buy better minions).

Yes that is a shameless plug.

Surprised? Don’t be. There will be more for myself and authors I love to read because truly, what is a friend if they don’t share their books with you? Dump them, you need new friends. Trust me on this one.